


The Direct Approach

by ConceptaDecency



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, M/M, Minor Julian Bashir/Elim Garak, Minor Odo/Quark, Post-Episode: s04e25 Body Parts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:27:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28290147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConceptaDecency/pseuds/ConceptaDecency
Summary: Why is Quark acting so jumpy around Garak these days? Jake and Nog have a theory, and a way to solve the problem, too.
Relationships: Elim Garak & Nog, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak, Nog & Jake Sisko, Nog/Jake Sisko
Comments: 30
Kudos: 69
Collections: Star Trek Secret Santa 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jazzypizzaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzypizzaz/gifts).



> Written for the 2020 [Star Trek Secret Santa](https://startreksecretsanta.tumblr.com). My Secret Santa requested:
> 
> _Jake and Nog shenanigans... maybe they play a prank on someone? maybe they go on vacation together and have some mishaps? can be platonic or romantic_
> 
> Hope this works for you, [jazzypizzaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jazzypizzaz/pseuds/jazzypizzaz%E2%80%9D%20rel=)!

“Your uncle...” said Jake, jerking his head at the man in question, who was busy at his usual place behind the bar.

“Wha’bout him?” Nog managed, through a mouthful of tube grub. 

“He’s been kind of jumpy lately.”

Nog looked up from the platter of food and across the room at his uncle Quark, who was leaning on one elbow, deep in conversation with Morn. "You're imagining things, Jake. My Uncle Quark's a seasoned businessman. He's been running places like this," he gestured vaguely around the bar with an empty grub shell, "since before I was born. He isn't _jumpy_."

"Okay, fine," said Jake. "I'm imagining things. But why does he keep looking around like he's a Naplaxian antelope at a waterhole?"

Just then Quark shot up and practically leapt back from the bar, as if Morn's drink had suddenly caught on fire and flared up in his face. Morn and the rest of the patrons looked at him in surprise, but Quark sheepishly laughed it off.

"Well, he's been having a hard time lately. He thought he was _dying,_ Jake, and then FCA revoked his business licence and he nearly lost the bar! All that was just a couple of weeks ago! I guess he has the right to be a bit tense." Nog grabbed a fresh tube grub that was trying to wriggle off of the platter. "What do you care, anyway? Since when are you so interested in my uncle?"

Jake shrugged. "I dunno. It's just interesting to watch people and notice when they're acting differently. Like, look. Here comes Garak."

Indeed, Garak had meandered into the rowdy establishment as casually as if he was taking an afternoon stroll on the Promenade.

"Garak? Really?" Nog twisted around in the booth so that he could follow Jake's gaze. He didn't bother trying to be subtle. "He hates crowds and noise. He never comes in here this time of the evening!" 

"Exactly! So why is he here now? It's interesting, isn't it?"

"He's going up to the bar! He never does that. When he does come in here he _always_ gets a table up on the third level." Nog kept Garak in his sights, slowly untwisting himself as the tailor passed their booth.

"Maybe he wants to talk to your uncle."

Indeed, it seemed he did. Garak approached the bar with a broad smile on his face. Quark, who was pouring a Samarian sunset for a tall Antarean woman, did not appear to see him at first, so Garak pulled up a stool next to her. Quark turned round with a flourish to present the drink to the Antarean. 

The sound of the glass shattering as the drink fell to the floor reverberated around the bar, leaving in its wake a brief shocked silence and then the hoots and shouts of delighted patrons.

Nog goggled. "I don't think I've ever seen Uncle Quark drop a drink before!"

"Something's really got under his skin!"

Quark didn't seem to care that he'd just dropped a costly piece of glassware containing an even more costly mixture of liquor, or that his Antarean customer was still waiting. His eyes were saucers as he looked at Garak, and he just stood, stunned, for a moment. Then he pasted on a fake, toothy grin and stepped forward to speak to the tailor.

"It's Garak!" said Jake. "He's afraid of Garak!"

"You know, I think you're right," said Nog, who was still a little stunned at seeing his uncle so careless behind the bar. "But why would he be afraid of Garak?"

"Well, Garak's a pretty scary guy. I mean, potentially. Because he used to be-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I mean, he probably still is. But my uncle's never been afraid of him before."

"Maybe they had some kind of business deal that went bad, and-"

Nog snapped his fingers. "That's it. You're right!"

"I am?" This was surprising. Jake had always been a little envious of Nog's intuitive knowledge about the business dealings, both legitimate and less so, that went on around the station.

"Well, sort of.”

"Oh."

“Let’s get out of here, Jake. Or my uncle’s gonna realise someone needs to clean up that mess and that someone will be me.” Nog grabbed the last of his tubegrubs and jammed them into his pocket.

*

“So what happened between Garak and your uncle?” Jake asked, once they were safely out of Quark's line of vision, draped over the railing on the upper deck of the Promenade.

"It wasn't a business deal gone wrong exactly. But it was definitely a disagreement about business."

Jake didn't really see that there was much difference, but he nodded anyway. "What happened?"

"You know Grizmar?"

"The Klingon chef?"

"Yeah. You know how he's always the first one to propose new expenses for improvements to the Promenade-"

"No, I didn't know that."

Nog narrowed an eye at Jake, as if it was an odd thing not to know. "Well, he is. Anyway, last week at the Association of Promenade Business Owners meeting he was pushing pretty hard to get new banners in the Promenade."

"Banners?"

"Yeah, banners." Nog gestured to one of the flame-coloured banners in question, draped directly across from them in large, elegant swoops from the ceiling of the Promenade. "He said it was without honour to let them get so shabby. And bad for business."

"What do the banners have to do with Garak and your uncle?"

"I'm getting to that. So, at the meeting there was a difference of opinion about whether it was necessary to replace them."

"Why a difference of opinion? They _are_ pretty shabby." Jake looked guiltily at the orange and yellow banner in front of them. It was a little ragged, and hung lopsided and frayed, due in part, no doubt, to the small hooked fruits, Bularian burrs, that he and Nog had once spent a bored afternoon several years before launching into the air and attempting to lodge on the swoops of fabric. Odo had soon put a stop to it (though it had been a very quiet day on the Promenade, and the burrs were very light; nobody had been in actual danger) but quite a few remained stuck in the banners to this day. They were especially visible if one was on the main level and looked through the banners directly into the lights.

"Why?" Nog shook his head. "These things cost money, Jake. Not everyone thought it was worth it."

"So your uncle didn't want to spend the money and Garak did and they got into a fight over that."

"No! Jake, you still have a lot to learn about business. Uncle Quark _agreed_ with Grizmar. His bar depends on people wanting to spend time on the Promenade, and if the Promenade starts looking run-down and shabby, then the bar starts to lose business."

"Oh. So Garak didn't want to spend the money."

"He really must not have. I don't know what else could have happened to make my uncle so afraid of him."

It was Jake's turn to narrow his eyes. "Wait, are you telling me you weren't even at the meeting? How do you know all this, then?"

"My uncle told me. He said it got quite heated."

"And he told you Garak didn't want to spend the money?"

"Well, no. Not exactly. But it's the obvious conclusion, isn't it?"

"But I thought Garak and Grizmar were seeing each other."

"They are? Garak and _Grizmar_?" 

Jake shrugged. "Well, they were. I dunno if they still are. But if they are, wouldn't that disprove your theory? Wouldn't Garak go along with Grizmar wanted?"

Nog snapped his fingers. "No! Don't you see? It makes my theory even more plausible! Grizmar wanted the new banners, Garak didn't, they had a colossal argument and broke up over it, and now Garak is extra angry at Grizmar and anyone who supports him. I bet Grizmar's been jumpy lately too. Just like my uncle."

"Nog, Grizmar's a Klingon."

"So what? Don't be racist, Jake. Having Garak angry at you would scare anyone."

*

"Tell me again why we're doing this?" Despite his far longer legs, Jake lagged reluctantly behind Nog as he strode confidently along the Promenade.

"Garak's been threatening my uncle, and that's upsetting my father. You should have seen him last night. He was ready to call my grand-moogie and ask her what to do.” 

"Uh huh. And we're going to Garak's to do what?"

"To get him to stop, of course!"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Of course! How stupid of me. We're just going to ask him politely. 'Please Garak, we aren't remotely involved and don't know anything about what's going on, but if you'd stop scaring Quark we'd be awfully grateful.' That's the plan."

Nog stopped and turned, scowling up at Jake. "First of all, asking politely can get you farther than you think. Rule of Acquisition number 271. Second, of course I've got a better plan than that! What do you take me for, a day-old soft-shelled dew beetle larva? Now, come on. I want to catch Garak before he closes for lunch."

With that, Nog resumed his run-walk towards the tailor shop.

"Okay, fine, sorry. But what's the plan, Nog? Nog! What's the plan?"

*

Garak had not closed up shop completely when they arrived, but the large, round door was almost entirely rolled shut, with only a slim crescent space open on one side. Nog easily slipped through, followed by Jake. The tailor was at his workstation in the back, shaking out a large piece of cloth and chatting to Doctor Bashir, who had draped one arm casually over the counter. 

“I’m afraid we’re just closing for lunch, gentlemen,” said Garak, in his polite customer service voice. “We’ll be open again in an hour, if you’d care to return then, or you can make an appointment on the station intranet.”

“It’s okay, Garak. It’s not about tailoring,” said Nog.

“My dear Mr Nog, you are aware you’re in a tailor shop, I hope?” 

Nog set his mouth in a straight line. He didn’t like being condescended to. “ _Yes_ , Garak. I meant I’m not here as a customer. It’s more important than that.”

Garak opened his eyes wide and dipped his chin. “Oh, well. If it’s _important_ then I suppose you’d better tell me. Quickly. Do you mind waiting a few minutes for your lunch, Doctor?” 

Bashir smiled affably. “Not at all, Garak. It sounds important.”

Nog chose to maintain his dignity and ignore any jokes at his expense. 

“Good. Because what I want to talk about concerns us all.”

“What, all four of us? Even Mr Sisko?” Garak nodded at Jake. 

“Not just the four of us. The entire station. Not to mention anyone who visits.”

“Oh my, this _is_ important,” said Garak.

“What would you say is the heart of the station?” Nog asked, undeterred. 

“The fusion reactor,” said Garak.

“No. Guess again.”

“Ops,” Bashir offered. 

“No!” This wasn’t working out as he’d planned. A little desperate, Nog turned his eyes to Jake.

“The Promenade?” 

“Yes! That’s right, Jake, the Promenade. The real heart of the station. Where people gather to eat and drink, to meet friends, to shop...” Nog gestured grandly around the shop. “Garak. Can you imagine how bleak our lives on this station would be if we didn’t have this bright, vibrant place to congregate?”

“It’s a little too bright for me, to be honest,” said Garak.

“I meant metaphorically bright.”

“Hmmm. Cardassians don’t have that metaphor. Do humans, Doctor?” 

Before Bashir could open his mouth to answer, Nog was in there. “Garak, we’re getting off topic.” 

“Oh dear. We are, aren't we?" Garak managed to look mock sheepish. "My apologies. Pray continue with your important speech.”

“Thank you. As I was saying, we’d all be miserable without the Promenade. So it’s up to all of us to make sure it’s a place people want to be. I’m sure you can agree that, as a merchant, that’s especially important for you.” 

"Of course."

"So it's in your own interest to invest in making the place attractive."

"And I endeavour to do so, young man." Garak swept his eyes icily around the shop and then settled them back on Nog in a manner that clearly meant 'and you agree with me that my shop is _setting_ the standard for attractiveness, don't you?'

Nog's eyes widened. "Yes! Of course Garak. The shop is beautiful! I meant outside the shop."

"Nog, you're being too vague." Jake had had enough. He had places to be, and no doubt so did Garak and Doctor Bashir. Holding them up was making him uncomfortable. "Just ask him about the money."

"Shut UP, Jake!" Nog hissed, as if Garak and Doctor Bashir weren't right there and able to hear every word. "I'm getting to it. And anyway, hew-mons don't know anything about money."

"Money?" Garak made a moue of confused distaste. "What money, Nog?"

"Ummmm." Nog tried to think of a smooth way to answer, but Jake's interruption had thrown him off. He'd had at least another two points to make about the importance of creating a pleasant atmosphere to cultivate perceived value before he breached the paramount and supreme topic of money. "The money for the new banners. The ones Grizmar wants to do. It's a good investment, Garak."

"How is that a good investment?" Bashir interjected.

"My dear," said Garak, gently but firmly, and placed a hand on Bashir's. "Nog is correct about one thing, and that is that humans _don't_ know anything about money. I'll explain it to you over lunch."

Jake and Bashir exchanged annoyed glances, but neither said anything.

"I'm correct about this too, Garak," said Nog, encouraged. "New banners'll spruce the Promenade up and make it a place people want to be, and that'll be good for your shop. I'm sorry that you and Grizmar are fighting, but please don't let your hard feelings cloud your business acumen! My uncle's only siding with Grizmar because he's _right,_ you know!"

Garak tilted his head. One eye ridge went up. "I see," he began, slowly. "You've given me a lot to think about, young man."

"So you'll drop the feud and contribute to the banner fund?"

"I'll consider it."

"Please do, Garak! My uncle only wants what's best for the whole Promenade!"

"As do we all, Nog. But I find I'm able to consider things much better when my stomach isn't complaining. Good day."

"Oh! Yes, of course. Good day, Garak! Come on, Jake!" Nog grabbed Jake's elbow and scuttled him towards the exit. 

"Can I talk now?" Bashir asked, as Nog and Jake slipped out through the narrow crescent of the portal door. He was trying to look affronted, but he couldn't cover his amused grin.

"Of course, my dear."

"I thought you and Grizmar had had a very amicable breakup. I'm very sorry to hear you two are fighting."

"We did and we aren't. He and I are in total agreement on this matter. It's important to keep the Promenade looking fresh and relevant, and anyway, who do you think will get the commission to make the new banners?"

"Oh." Bashir's face was three confused circles. "Then what was all that about?"

"I have no idea, Doctor. Young men's whims."

"Uh huh. Nog got the idea that you were feuding with Grizmar and Quark somehow, Garak. And I've noticed Quark's been kind of jumpy lately."

"Has he? Well, the poor man's been through a lot lately."

"Okay, fine." Julian was hungry and not much in the mood to argue. At least not until he had a hot meal to tuck into. "You don't have to tell me what you've been up to. Just do me a favour and stop terrorising him for whatever the real reason is, won't you? Ferengi respond terribly to stress and we're very busy at the Infirmary lately." 

"Always so amusing, Doctor. But rest assured, I'd never wish to do anything that would put you out. I'm speaking theoretically, of course." Garak beamed at the doctor.

"Of course, of course."

"Now," said Garak, stepping around the workstation and placing a hand gently on the small of Bashir's back, "shall we? Before someone else decides to impart their wisdom on a poor old tailor just barely getting by?"


	2. Coda

"It worked, Nog." Jake held up his drink in tribute to a job well done.

"It did, didn't it?" Nog grinned a proud grin and leaned back in the booth, head resting on folded arms, watching. Just outside the bar entrance, his uncle, Grizmar, and Garak were standing on the Promenade, looking up, gesticulating and gesturing at the banners draped above them. It was all very civilised. 

"I didn't think it would, but I was wrong. Something about what you said convinced Garak to stop scaring your uncle and work with him and Grizmar."

"It's simple, Jake. Rule of Acquisition number 148: 'You can hold a grudge or you can hold latinum. The choice is up to you.' Even a Cardassian can see the sense in that."

"Well, he might not have if you hadn't explained it to him. Rule of Acquisition number 213: 'There's nothing like the personal touch.'"

Nog turned to face Jake, who was sitting beside him, also watching the Promenade goings-on with interest. Amazement was etched across his small face. "Very good! Since when do you know the Rules of Acquisition?"

"I don't! Not really. I guess I just absorbed them from spending so much time with you."

Nog broke into a wide, pointy smile and squeezed Jake's hand. “I guess you never know what you can learn from other people. I see what _you_ mean about people-watching, too. It _is_ interesting.”

Jake squeezed back. “Isn’t it?”

“Yes! And you can learn so much. Like, look. Here comes Odo." 

Indeed, Odo had stalked up to the trio and, hands clasped behind his back, was already deep in conversation with Quark.

"He always comes to see my uncle at least once a day. Usually when he's right in the middle of something.”

Jake nodded. "Yeah, those two have the strangest relationship. It's like Odo makes up excuses to talk to your uncle. I mean, look at him. He's hardly speaking to Grizmar or Garak, but he can't get enough of your uncle."

"Jake..."

"Yes?"

"I just thought of something. Do you think Odo has a crush on my Uncle Quark?"

"Well..."

"I can't believe I never saw it before. And I think my uncle likes him back. Look at his body language. How close he's getting."

"Nog..."

"Jake, you're so right about people watching."

"Nog, I think..."

"Why haven't they ever gotten together?"

"Nog, if you're thinking of interfering..."

"Jake." Nog slugged back his snail juice. "Finish your nachos. We're going to talk to Odo."

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place a few weeks after the season 4 episode Body Parts, in which Quark gets himself into a financial pickle and hires Garak to assassinate him as a way to get out of it. I'm honestly not sure if Nog should be at Starfleet Academy or not at this point, but I have never been too bothered by adhering to strictly to timelines, so if Nog should be at the Academy, just imagine he's home for a visit!
> 
> I thrive when liberally sprinkled with kudos and comments!


End file.
